Housecleaning With The Hunks
by Goddess Isa
Summary: Buffy's put Spike in charge of her new apartment - What was she thinking?


**TITLE: Housecleaning With The Hunks  
AUTHOR: Goddess Isa  
EMAIL: goddessisa@aol.com  
SUMMARY: Spike does, an, um, number on an apartment Buffy wants to move into  
SPOILER: Prolly Helpless  
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just email me & lmk where it's going - I like seeing my name in print =) My site - http://planetslaythis.homestead.com  
FEEDBACK: Please, I'd have to have to Slay for it. =P  
RATING: TV-PG  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, Joss Whedon does. If he ever decides to give them to me, that would be nice. =) I believe 'I Will Survive' belongs to Gloria Gaynor.  
DEDICATED: To Pamela - THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! I could be snuggled warmly in my bed, but noooooo! I've gotta write this b/c I can't get this image outta my head!  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've been tryin' to send this blasted story out since Friday. Damn AOL.   
  
  
  
Buffy slammed the front door to her house and found her mother working at her desk, as usual.   
  
"Hi sweetie. How was.........your night?"   
  
"Big Slayage. I gotta tell you something."   
  
She kept on typing. "What?"   
  
"I saw Spike again."   
  
"Oh?" she tried her best not to show her distaste for the Vamp.   
  
"Yeah, he was telling me he's giving up his lair here."   
  
"His what?"   
  
"That's where Vampires stay. Anyways, he's giving it up, and he asked me if I wanted it."   
  
"His lair."   
  
"Yeah.   
  
"Why would you want his lair?"   
  
Buffy took a deep breath. "I wanna move out."   
  
  
*****  
  
  
Giles tossed his glasses onto his desk and smiled at Joyce. "Hello. Won't you have a seat?"   
  
"I'm here on business, Mr. Giles."   
  
"Please, call me Rupert."   
  
"Fine, Rupert. Buffy has told me she wants to move out."   
  
"Buffy is business?" he questioned.   
  
"She is with us. She wants to move out."  
"I know."   
  
"You're okay with this?"   
  
"I didn't say that. I suppose I don't have much say now that I'm no longer her Watcher, however I do feel that if she gets a taste of being on her own--"   
  
"She had that over the summer."   
  
"Yes, but she was upset and lonely. That was about breaking away and this is about independence."   
  
"That's true."   
  
"Give Buffy a week with this idea and I'm sure she'll give it up."   
  
Joyce stood up. "I think you may be right. I'll talk to Buffy when she gets home tonight. Thank you Mr--Rupert."   
  
"You're very welcome. Good afternoon, Joyce."   
  
She smiled and walked out. He watched her as she left and realized where Buffy got her wonderful walk from.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
Buffy smiled when she walked in. "It's big."   
  
"It's a mess!" her mother declared. "Oh, God, Buffy, I detested the idea of you moving, but moving HERE?"   
  
"It would be free!" she reminded her. "Free! As in no rent. No bills. Just a place to crash."   
  
"You have to place to crash. For free. It's called home."   
  
"Right, with a mom - no offense - and rules and I just need some space, all right? I'm not going to live here all the time, just occasionally."   
  
"Like six nights a week?"   
  
"Ri--" she smiled sheepishly at her mother. "Let's just look at the kitchen."   
  
Joyce walked over to a filthy bar accompanied by a sink so mildewed it was hunter green in colour. "I believe this is it."   
  
"So we get some of that Kitchen Miracle stuff they sell on Infomercials......"   
  
Her mother stared at her.   
  
"Or I won't eat when I'm here." she walked over to the bathroom door and kicked it open, not wanting to touch it. "The bathroom isn't bad."   
  
Her mother peeked in. "The toilet seat is black."   
  
Buffy backed out of the bathroom and walked around the main floor again. Dust flew up into the air.   
  
"Your friend Spike has some taste," Joyce remarked.   
  
"He was just trying to be nice, Mom."   
  
"Next time, tell him to try harder." she put her arm around her. "Come on. You know, you could always build a clubhouse or something in the yard. Lots of people do that."   
  
"Sure, Mom." Buffy laughed.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
"You're not taking it? I'm shocked."   
  
Buffy moved towards the only free table at The Bronze and motioned for Spike to sit with her, which he did.   
  
"It's not that I don't want it, I do, but my mother cannot deal with the idea of me living in such a pigsty--"   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"Spike, really. What would you call that place?"   
  
"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen it in at least two hundred years.   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Here," she handed him the key back. "Let me know what you think. I've gotta go meet Angel."   
  
"Hot date?"   
  
"Actually, we're going to have a threesome with Faith. Willow and Oz might drop along too. You're welcome if you're free."   
  
"You never fail to amaze me, Slayer."   
  
"Well, what do you want? Swinging is very hip amongst the undead and we don't wanna be left out."   
  
Spike grunted when he saw the mess that had become his old lair. She was right. It was awful. He put his boombox in one corner and turned it on, jumping around the room to GreenDay. When the song mellowed a bit, he began to clean. He wore a mask and used some infomercial-worthy chemical to clean the mildew off the sink. He had a lowly Vamp put a new toilet in. He swept, he dusted, he moped. He whitewashed the walls, put carpeting on the floors. He bought a mini fridge and put it in there for her. The whole bit.   
  
He was just about finished with the kitchen counter - it was yellow now that you could see it - when his most favorite song in all his life, November Rain came on. It made him think of Dru whenever he heard it. If he would have been capable of it, he would've cried. He threw his sponge in the brand new sink (the grunge just wouldn't clean off of the old one) and stripped down to his boxers. It was always easier to sulk in your underwear. Before he knew it, he was dancing. It wasn't a happy dance or a sad dance, it was just a release. Of what, he didn't know. When he'd finished, he realized the song had been over for some time. GreenDay was again blasting at him, something about how the nice guys always finish last. He smiled, thinking he was never a nice guy anyway, and went back to scrubbing the last mildew stain he found on the counter.   
  
Without telling Buffy, he also had some of his cronies remove the black ceramic tiles that covered all the windows. He had them replaced with new windows and put a sliding door to the balcony. He was willing to bet money Buffy didn't even know about it.   
  
Time passed, and he realized the smell of the infomercial cleaner was getting to him. He opened the door to the balcony and went outside, looking down at the city below him. There wasn't a whole lot to Sunnydale. Small homes, small buildings, big evil. He remembered the first time he'd wreaked havoc in Sunnydale. It was in the 1950's. He'd brought Dru with him and they'd killed the family that lived in the apartment and made it there own. He truly was surprised it was still standing after all these years.   
  
Returning to the indoors, he played with the tuner on the radio, grabbed a broom to use as a mic and went nuts when Elvis came on.   
  
"Oh let me be, your Teddy Bear," he sang, totally off key but completely happy. He went through about thirty more tunes, and when he was in the middle of his rendition of "Please Mr. Postman", someone came out of the bathroom and announced that it was completely done. Spike, feeling self conscious the way he looked, hid behind the counter and threatened the Vamp's life if he didn't get lost. He complied, and Spike went back to his dancing. The station, he realized, played oldies from four decades, form the forties to the 70s. He was getting annoyed with the disco stuff until Donna Summer came on.   
  
"At first I was afraid," he sang, picking up the broom again. "I was petrified. Kept thinkin' I could never live without you by my side." he broke a piece of the handle off to use as a hand held mic and went on. "But then I spent so many nights, thinkin' how you' done me wrong and I grew strong. I learned how to carry on."   
  
He sang on, feeling liberated. He felt like the song was his final goodbye to Drusilla. He didn't know where she was, and he didn't care. He was hoping that fixing up the apartment would win the heart of the Slayer. Or, at least, make her stop hating him.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
"Spike......what is this place?" Buffy couldn't believe it. There was an inflatable couch and ottoman in the living room of the place, the kitchen was all fixed and there were curtains in the windows. The bathroom had been fixed too, there was even soap in the dispenser. "Who did this?"   
  
"Who do you think, Slayer? Me."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"For you."   
  
She was baffled. "Why?"   
  
"Can't I do something nice?"   
  
"Not without wanting something in return."   
  
"This place is yours, if you want it."   
  
She looked around. "Oh, it's great. But I can't take it. My mom and I already decided that I'm going to just crash with Angel a few nights a week."   
  
Spike growled.   
  
"That'll be good for both of us, it seems like we never see each other."   
  
Spike felt his Vamp face urging to come through but he fought it. If he killed her, he'd have to answer to Angel. He didn't want that.   
  
"But don't worry. I have a friend who would LOVE this place!"   
  
  
*****   
  
  
"Man, B, you were right, this place rules!" Faith settled on the couch with a box of Crunch and Munch. "Who'd you say fixed this up?"   
  
Buffy grinned. "Angel. He did it all himself."   
**


End file.
